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“Never underestimate a vicious rodent,” Finn said.
Night had now well and truly fallen, wrapping Huldra Island in a thick cloak of darkness. The path before them was nearly invisible but for the small beams of light emanating from their flashlights. Amelia and Finn trudged upwards, their footsteps the only sound breaking the night’s stillness.
The landscape transformed gradually, and the eerie vastness of the moors gave way to a rising hill. As they ascended, five ominous shapes began to take form. The houses that stood there were formidable, reminiscent of a time long past.
As they approached, Finn's flashlight beam played upon the walls of the nearest house. The inky black rock gleamed dully back at him. "Look at this," he murmured, running his fingers over the smooth surface, "It's the same as Huldra House. This black stone... it's everywhere."
Amelia, scanning the houses, nodded in agreement. "The style is similar, too. It's as if they were all carved from the same rock at the same time. If the legends are to be believed, maybe these houses and the mansion came as a package because of some misplaced superstition."
The duo walked closer, inspecting each house. To Finn's surprise, four out of the five houses appeared uninhabited. Chains and locks adorned their entrances, while cobwebs and accumulated dust gave testament to their disuse.
"It's odd," Finn murmured, "Why would only one be occupied?"
Amelia replied, "It could be any number of reasons – perhaps the others moved, or maybe..." she hesitated, "maybe they no longer had anyone to pass their homes onto, to keep the tradition of watching Huldra House alive."
However, in the oppressive darkness, the fifth house stood apart. A faint light glimmered from one of its windows, like a beacon in the overwhelming blackness. Without saying a word, they both made their way toward it, stepping warily on an overgrown stone path.
Amelia motioned for Finn to follow her lead and raised a hand, knocking softly. They waited as the winds gather up around them, the only other sounds their synchronized breathing and the distant crashing of waves against unseen shores.
Moments later, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman. Time had etched lines deep into her face, but her eyes were sharp and alert. Wrapped in a shawl, she peered out at them, her gaze first settling on Amelia and then drifting to Finn.
Before any words could be exchanged, Finn tried his most charming smile. It didn't work.
“Who are you?” the old lady asked with frustration clear on her face.
Amelia, in a reassuring tone, introduced herself, flashing her badge. "Inspector Amelia Winters," she said, nodding toward Finn, "and this is consulting detective Finn Wright. Can I ask your name?"
“Agnes Logan,” she said, still grasping onto the inside of the door, as if ready to shut it at any moment, should the conversation become unpalatable.
Agnes squinted at the ID before her gaze wandered back up to study Amelia's face. The old woman's face reflected a myriad of emotions - from confusion, recognition, to a growing unease, and then to apparent fear.
Amelia began, "We're on the island because–"
"To investigate the deaths? Of Lord Carmichael and the fisherman?" Agnes interjected, a tremor in her voice.
Finn nodded, "Yes, exactly. We've come to understand the significance of these houses. We recently uncovered a local legend about how these houses were built as homes for five people who could watch and look over Huldra House. We want to know more about the role of 'The Watchers', as it could help with a line of inquiry. We were wondering if you knew of anyone who may have taken those stories too seriously, or anyone who might bear ill will towards those associated with Huldra House."
Before he could say more, Agnes's face crumpled, tears pooling in her eyes, reflecting the dim light from her home. Finn had the feeling that the woman had been waiting for someone to call, and finally, when they did, she was ready to release all of her built-up worry.
Amelia stepped forward, her usual empathetic approach comforting the elderly. Finn, too, felt moved, his previous suspicions now turning into concern. The old lady very much reminded him of his grandma.
Through choked sobs, Agnes uttered, "I knew it. I had this sinking feeling in my heart. I knew that one day..." She trailed off.
Amelia gently took Agnes's hand, "Knew what, Mrs. Logan?"
Agnes wiped her tears with the back of her other hand. "It's my son, Alistair. He's always been obsessed with our family’s past, the traditions of The Watchers. But lately... he's been different."
"Different how?" Finn inquired, his detective instincts kicking in.
Agnes swallowed hard, "For generations, our family has lived on this hill, keeping the traditions alive. But Alistair... ever since those talks about some resort being built here started circulating, he's become obsessed. He'd roam the moors at night, muttering about dark times and threats to Huldra House. He'd say he knew something sinister was approaching. I tried to tell him to calm down, but he couldn't."
Finn's brow furrowed. "Did he ever mention Lord Carmichael or the fisherman?"
Agnes shook her head, fresh tears trickling down, "No, but the weight of the responsibility he carried, the restless nights, it all changed him. I hated myself for thinking it, but when the news of the deaths reached me, a horrid thought crossed my mind. What if... What if my son had something to do with it?"
Amelia continued to hold the elderly woman's hand affectionately. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Mrs. Logan. If Alistair is involved, we'll find out. But we'll also ensure he gets the help he needs."
Agnes nodded, but the fear was still in her eyes. Finn was certain it was the fear of losing her son.
